


i have mixed drinks about feelings

by skywalkerz



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drunk Will Graham, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Sassy Will Graham, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, Will is a Mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26895343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywalkerz/pseuds/skywalkerz
Summary: Will is drunk. Hannibal is amused.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 223





	i have mixed drinks about feelings

"Honey I'm hooooome." It sounds like the best thing to say, Will decides, practically tumbling into his house, drunker than he intended to be. But that's what he gets for trying to be "less anti-social in order to stay grounded" so Jack had told him. In a bold state of mind, Will had agreed to drinking with Bev and Zeller. And Will doesn't even drink - not socially. Will likes drinking at home with his own fingers of whiskey, and nursing his own hangover the next day. 

But no, now here he is, Friday night, nearing midnight, drunk out of his god damn mind. Knowing he was going to need a ride home, and wanting to avoid the suspicion of being dropped off at Hannibal's house, Will had told him to just stay at Will's place that night. 

Hannibal wasn't entirely eager, definitely preferring his own home. But Will had insisted, and that's all it takes sometimes. 

Will, in a tipsy haze, yanks his shoes off, rubbing his eyes after in hopes it will clear his vision. (It does not. He regrets every shot he took). 

"Han?" Will questions, chest feeling funny, head all intoxicated and clouded with only images of Hannibal. When he gets no reply, Will figures maybe Hannibal didn't wait up for him. Or left due to Will's dog's neediness. 

Turning the corner into his bedroom, though, he sees Hannibal, sitting up with a book, glasses perched on his nose. Will all but leaps into the bed, crowding into all of Hannibal's space, peppering flimsy and sloppy kisses across his face. He can feel Hannibal's smile against his cheeks. 

"Mmm, intoxicated, are we?" Hannibal murmurs, reaching for his glasses and setting them on the nightstand. 

"Mhmmmmm." Will answers, burying his face into the older man's neck, kissing and sucking with as much talent as one can when they are plastered. 

"How did you manage to get home?" Hannibal pushes against Will's shoulders, making their eyes meet.

"Bev." Will smiles, eyes half-lidded, making himself comfortable in Hannibal's lap. 

"I do hope they took care of you." Hannibal breathes out, reaching to push some of Will's ridiculous curls off of his forehead.

"Oh, they did. With lots of shots. That are now in my stomach. And making it really difficult to take this off," Will's brow furrows, as he hyper-fixates on a single button on Hannibal's sleep shirt. He fiddles with it for an embarrassingly long amount of time, before groaning in exasperation. 

"Let me get you some water, darling." Hannibal's hands go to Will's waist, attempting to gently guide him off of his lap. But Will, needy and absolutely child-like, whines in protest. 

"Please don't get up. You could have come and drank with me allllllll night. And fucked me in a bar bathroom, all dirty and stuff. But instead, you stayed here, reading some pretentious book on a Friday night, while your socially skilled boyfriend thrived." Will says, almost giggling at the end at how ridiculous it sounds. 'Will' and 'social' are two words that do not really belong in the same sentence. And based off of Hannibal's soft smile, he probably must agree at the humor in it all.

"Maybe that's true." Hannibal murmurs, cupping one of Will's cheeks in his palms, staring at him like he's something poetic instead of the drunk mess he actually is.

Will grinds down against Hannibal subtly, closing his eyes at the lingering touch on his cheekbone. "You fuckin' sap." He mumbles. 

"Give me one moment. I promise." Will wants to object, until Hannibal kisses him sweetly, Will's face in his hands, securely and safe. He maneuvers Will off of his lap, and Will closes his eyes as his back hits the mattress, head tucked on Hannibal's pillow. 

It feels like hours later, when Hannibal comes back with the medicine and water. Will can hear him, can feel the mattress sinking slightly where Hannibal sits on the edge. 

"Will," comes the murmur of Hannibal's syrupy and calm voice.

"Mmm."

"Sit up, mylimasis." 

It takes more effort and strength than it should to sit up, and all of the drunkenness shoots to Will's head, pounding and throbbing. He groans slightly, taking the Tylenol from Hannibal, throwing it back and sipping the water. (If some of it gets on his shirt, Hannibal doesn't make a comment). 

"Now kiss me," Will demands, voice slurring just enough.

Hannibal submits, always, pressing their mouths together, tasting the faint whiskey on Will's tongue, some traces of Vodka and something fruity and sugary. Probably a taste of whatever Bev drank, Hannibal assumes. 

"You smell so good," Will purrs, lids heavy and voice deep. 

Hannibal bites back a laugh, smiles however. "Okay, sweet boy. Bed time, yes?"

"No." Will is going for his belt, bold and devious. "Take off your clothes,"

"As much as I revel in the idea of making love to you at dusk, Will, you are much too uncoordinated for the time being; I don't think you could remove your own shirt, even if you attempted."

"Oh, shut up." Will snips back, but a smile is dancing on his lips. "Then you could take it off for me, Doctor." That damn flirtatious smile. Hannibal, after all these years, can feel his cheeks warming up like some floozy of a teenager. He hopes Will's too intoxicated to tell. He ignores the heat of his cheeks spreading down to his sternum. 

"I'll remove your clothes, only for sleeping, Will," Hannibal forces out, starting to unbutton Will's dress shirt. Frankly, Will could pass for being asleep right now, eyes closed, eyelashes dusting over his cheekbones, an arm thrown over his head. His breaths are coming out as quiet huffs, chest moving almost erotically with every inhale. 

When Will's slacks are off, Hannibal reaches for the side lamp and turns it off, maneuvering under the covers, making sure Will is on his side. 

The way Will immediately attaches himself to Hannibal's is the last thing he wants to feel when he leaves this world. The way Will's body conforms to his own, wrapping every limb securely and possessively around Hannibal, the way his face tucks right into the crook of his neck. As if everything, in such a cliché way, fits together. 

**Author's Note:**

> xoxoxoxo


End file.
